■•: V** -^"^ ^^/ -^-^ ^^-^^^ :*^\ "--^^ 















■■ . »■>--* . ■■^m- ./\}^^ y^**/^m' y 1 



iV ^ • • •! 



A' ... -^^ '" -r .>''.yo-"' j^'.^y-jr-k 



























/ 4:^'% ''y^^v*^.* .*^ 



^"f 







O- * 



c>, ♦Tvi** aO- 























%'<^^'' 






\ 















r- 












^^ 















V .*-»^ -.^i^W** .f.^ V V 









; .i^°- 






^- iP^t. V 



7 rf^*'-- 





















ECHOES 



BY 



LUCirs PKHKV HILLS. 




A UTO GRAPH EDITION. 

published bv the authok. 
Atlanta, Ga. 1892 




m 3 1893 






CoPYKKiHT 189*J 
BY 

Lucirs P. Hills 



AUTIIOirs PIJKFACK. 

THIS little collection of verse is not published 
in response to a general demand, or in fact, to 
any demand whatever, l)ut simjjlv to gratify a 
whim of the author. 

Thoughts awakened l)y the experiences of a 
somewhat eventful career, having sung themselves 
into rhyme, have found lodgings among the men- 
tal faculties, where they have clung with such te- 
nacity that I have been enable<l to put the volume 
in type myself, depending for copy entirely u])on 
memory. 

Being a complete novice in this department of 
labor, the work will no doubt present a ver}' ama- 
teurish appearance ; but, having mounted a hobb}^ 
at the beginning, I have ridden it as best I could 
to the end of the i-ace, and if the result but brings 
a moments i)leasure to either friend or stranger, it 
will more than realize the wildest hopes of 

The AiTnoK. 



CONTENTS. 

ECHOES OK SKNTnrKXT. PAGE. 

Motto 1 

Life's Tangled Threads '2 

Maid of my Dreams 4 

Grief and Faitli 6 

On Christian Hill 7 

A AVish for You 11 

I Dare not Wish Her Back 12 

The Sister's Dream 14 

The Sea-shell's Whisper 17 

Rejected 20 

United 21 

jMarried Lovers 24 

(4od Bless our Home 2G 

Lenore 2X 

A Rhapsody 29 

Autumn (Tlories -H 

A Curl of Golden Hair -^3 

Mv Anojel Bride 3() 

When I Dit Drowed 38 

Mother's Bov 40 

My Soul is Alone 43 

A Sonnet for You 45 

A Sentiment 4() 



ECHOES OF -MERKniEXT. FA(;E. 

In June 49 

Only 51 

Poetical Courtship ■ • • • f)l^ 

"It Might Have Been" (il 

Harry's Reply 60 

Lute and I^^re 66 

MOINTAIX ECHOES IX DIALECT. 

The Moonshhier's Greeting 71 

The City Choir Duet 74 

The Opera Encore 80 

How the Fiddle Sung (S6 

AX ECHO FROM THE OLD FARM. 

When the Honeymoon is Over 97 



ECIi;)ES OI^^ SENTIMENT 



€^. 




'pHOUGHTS are but echoes of the heart's 
^ emotion, 

Whose varpng tides forever ebb and flow ; 
While calms and storms upon life's troubled ocean, 
Bring to each soul its happiness and woe. 



LIFE'S TANGLED THREADS. 

A WOMAN" sits the livelong day, 
By a swiftly turning wheel , 
While through each hand, a single thread 

Is running from a reel ; 
And as the wheel turns round and round, 

In its unvaried track. 
The threads are twisted in a cord 
Of mingled gold and black. 

A fickle Goddess sits supreme. 

Upon her throne of state. 
While joy and sorrow through her hands, 

Pass like two threads of fate ; 
And as the wheel of destiny 

Turns out life's cord, behold, 
From end to end the liber runs 

Of mingled black and gold. 



Hope is the thread of sliiiiing gokl, 

The sable, dark despair, 
And not a soul exists, but both 

Are strangely blended there ; 
Yet, when the tangled cord of life 

By death's cold hand is riven. 
Faith, like a silver thread of light, 

Still reaches uj) to Heaven. 



MAID OF MV DREAMS. 

OMAID of my dreams ! With your beauty so 
rare, 
Your laughing brown eyes, and your soft flow- 
ing hair ; 
YoY me, I well know you have never a care. 
Yet my soul goes seeking Thee everywhere. 

O Maid of my dreams ! In the first morning hour 
When the white lilies bend to the kiss of the 
shower ; 

My glad soul would hie to thy beautiful bower, 
As the honey-bee flies to the opening flower. 



O Maid of my dreams ! At the day's weary close, 
When evening o'er natm-e her cool shadow 
throws, 

My soul's fond caresses would haunt thy repose. 
As the dew-drop goes kissing the blush of the 



O Maid of my dreams ! When all the world seems 
Aglow with the sheen d£ the moon's silver beams. 
And heaven's blue dome with the bright starlight 
gleams. 
My soul shall still seek Thee, O Maid of my 
dreams. 

O Maid of my dreams ! If my soul in its quest, 
Should ever discover thy haven of rest. 

Fly back with it here like a bird to its nest. 
And make Thee a home on thy true-lover's 
breast. 



GRIEF AND FA ITIL 

'T^WO little hands, so cold and white, 
^ Folded across the pulseless breast ; 
Two little feet, so still to-night. 
Lie side by side, in moveless rest. 

Two lips, that only yesterday. 

Made childish music through the hall : 
Are now but silent, breathless clay. 

And give no answer to our call. 

Two loving eyes, so softly brown, 

That never more shall laugh or weep ; 

Have (b-awn theii" snowy curtains down. 
And closed in endless, dreamless sleej) 

(Irief gazes on the [)all and cries : 
"Alas ! 'tis more than I can bear," 

But Faith looks upward to the skies. 
And sees a shining angel there. 

G 



ON VHlUi^TIAN HILL. 

''T^WAS Sabbath morn , the sun shone bright' 

^ And sacred quiet reigned around, 
While bands of worshipers obeyed 

The tolling church-bell's solemn sound ; 
As, idl}^ strolling through the tOAvn, 

I crossed the river, passed the mill, 
And wandering aimlessly along, 

I reached the foot of ChristianHill. 

As up the slope I slowly strayed, 

I met a maiden, wondrous bright. 
In whose dark eyes the sunbeams played 

With ever shifting, changing light ; 
With face and form of perfect mold. 

Displaying nature's utmost skill ; 
A liower of rarest beauty, formed 

To deck the brow of Christian Hill. 



Often ill poem or roiiiaiice 

I've read of maids divinely fair, 
With eyes whose hue was heaven's own blue, 

And sunlit waves of golden hair ; 
Of these let poets madly rave, 

And sing their praises as they will, 
III ne'er forget the dark brunette, 

Wlioni first r met on Christian Hill. 

No poet's pen could e'er describe 

The nameless magic of her grace. 
No artist's pencil could portray 

The charms that centered in her face ; 
Her smile was bright as morning light, 

Its witching beauty haunts me still. 
And bids me ever bless the fate 

Tliat led my feet toward Christian PlilL 

In happy visions of the night 

Her radient face I often see, 
And with the morning's breaking light 

Her iniaoe still revisits me ; 



Or, when meandering tlirouoh the town, 
With what wild joy my pulses thrill, 

It" on the street I chance to meet 

That dark-eyed girl of Christian Hill. 

I know not Ayhat strange power it is 

Which thus my wayward heart can moye, 
'Tis surely more than friendship's spell, 

And yet, I dare not name it love ; 
But this I know, where'er I go 

No other love my soul can fill. 
Since I have seen fair beauty's queen. 

Who sits enthroned on Christian Hill. 

But time is passing swiftly by. 

And these bright days will soon be o'er. 
When 1 shall leave these happy scenes, 

Perchance to visit them no more ; 
But when in distant lands I roam. 

Life's sterner duties to fulfill. 
Fond memory will revisit of t , 

One little cot on Christian Hill. 



Fair girl, wliere'er my patli shall lead, 

While life remains, thou hast a friend, 
And e'en upon my dying bed 

One prayer for thee shall still ascend ; 
And when above my grave, shall sing 

The nightingale and whip-poor-will, 
My lingering spirit still shall haunt 

Thy sacred home on Christian Hill. 



10 



A WISH FOB YOU. 

SWEET as the songs which the robins sing, 
Pure as the flow of a crystal spring, 
Deep as the depths of a mother's love. 
True as your faith in the God above ; 
With a harvest of smiles and a famine of tears, 
Through all the course of the coming years ; 
So sweet, so pure, so deep, so true. 
Be the joy Fate holds in store for you. 



11 



I DARE NOT WISH HER BACK. 

1 STOOD and looked upon lier sweet, dead face. 
In its cold, marble beauty lying there. 
Paler than the fresh white flowers, which lay 
Like drifted snow-flakes on her clustering hair ; 
The fountain of my tears was frozen o'er, 
My heart was breaking with a speechless pain ; 
Yet, in the darkness of my deep despair, 
I dared not wish my darling back again. 

She was so young, so beautiful and pure, 

And sorrowing age might deem her doubly blest, 

That, ere she wearied of life's toil, deatli came 

And kissed her eyelids down to perfect rest ; 

Her soul, secure among the angels now. 

Can never know the curse of sin's dark stain, 

So, while my aching heart still mourns its loss, 

I cannot wdsh my darling back again. 

VI 



OtV ill tilt' silent watclios of thv iiii^lit, 
I lift my face to the blue dome above, 
And deem the stars are but her angel eyes, 
Bending upon me with undying love; 
And if their steadfast light my feet shall guide. 
While in life's wilderness I still remain, 
When death shall set my fettered sjnrit free. 
My soul shall have its darling back again. 



18 







THE SISTER'S DREAM. 

NE dark and stormy nigbt I had a dream; 
I thonglit I stood upon the ocean's shore, 
I leard tlie deep thunder, saw the lightning gleam. 

And listened to the loud, unceasing roar 
( )t* tiie wihl waters, as they fiercely beat 
Against the rugged coast beneath my feet. 

jVnd standujg there uj)on the rocky steep, 
Watching the towering billows madly rise, 

I heard ahove the tumult of the deej) 
The sudden sound of agonizing cries ; 

A chorus of wild shrieks, that rent the air 

J^ike the last wail of mortals in despair. 

With straining eyes I gazed into the dark, 

Across the water, whence the sound was borne, 
And saw upon the wave a foundered bark, 



14 



AVitli broken masts and riggino- rndely torn. 
Tossed like a bubble on the raging flood, 
And bearing swiftly down to where 1 stoo<l. 

Xearer, still nearer came the fated wreck, 
Driven onward by the fury of the storm. 

And, closely clinging to the wave-washed deck, 
A vivid flash revealed the stalwart form 

Of one who had withstood the rushing tide 

That swept his struggling comrads from his side. 

A moment passed, and then a mighty wave 
Broke o'er the vessel wath resistless power ; 

All hope, was gone, no earthly aid could save 
That lonely mariner in that dark hour — 

It tore him from the deck, the vessel sank and he 

Was left alone to buffet with the sea. 

I saw a well-known visage, gastly pale. 
Lifted a moment on the rising swell — 

And heard a well-known voice above the gale 
Cry: '■'■Sister, I am (Iroirniiu/ \ fura t/iee well r'' 

The struggle ceased, and in the angry wave, 

He with his comrads found a watery grave. 



15 



The vision ended, \,.scwoke at last, 

And knew 'twas nothing but a frightful dream. 
Yet, though that stormy night is long since past, 

Whene'er I listen to the wild wind's scream. 
That cry still haunts me like some fearful knell, 
"71^/ sister, I am drowning ; fare thee vtell /" 



10 



THE SEA-SHELVS MIITSPER. 



T 



HE NOirni WIND, sluveiing with a 
cliill, 



Flew southward toward the Summer Land, 
And passing o'er the ocean's shore, 
He spied a sea-shell on the strand. 

Between the sea-shell's |)ink-white li])s 
The shivering Xorth Wind slowly crept, 

And close within its polished heart, 
Benumbed with cold he lay and slept. 

The South Wind, parched with burning heat. 
Flew panting, toward the cold Xorth Land, 

And wandering near the ocean, saw 
That self-same sea-shell on the sand. 



Tlie pale-pink lips, wet with the s)>rjiy, 

Invited her with promise fair, 
And creeping in, close to its heart, 

She found the Nortli Wind sleei)ing there 

She stooped, and on the sleeper's lips 
She coyly pressed a soft, warm kiss. 

And thrillmg to its magic touch. 

The North Wind woke to h:)ve and bliss. 

He gently wooed the willing maid. 
And there anon the pair were wed. 

And close w^ithin the sea-shell's heart. 
That night they made their bridal bed. 

They sle])t until the rosy east 

Blushed with the morning's first caress. 
Then j)arting with a last embrace. 

They wandered forth the world to bless. 

The North Wind swiftly fiew to fan 

The fevered south with cooling breath ; 

The South Wind kissed the frozen seas, 
And woke them from their icy death. 

18 



I>iit ever since, Ms o'er tlie earth 

The North aiKl South Winds gaily rove; 
The murinering sea-shell echoes still, 

Their iirst foiul whisperings of love. 



19 



REJECTEIJ. 

HK took luT liJind and lookecl into lier eyes, 
Tliose calm, i)iire eyes, holding his destiny; 
He sought to read them as the sailor tries 

To read the stars that guide him o'er the sea ; 
Alas ! how blind is love ! Hope smiling there, 
Hid from his view the specter of des|)air. 

He whispered all his faltering voice could say ; 
He told her of the love that thrilled his soul, 
He saw her turn her misty eyes away, 

iVnd felt the warm hand slip from his control, 
A sad sigh fluttered to her li})s and fell 
Upon the silence like a funeral knell. 

She had no need for speech — the tearful eye's 

Avoidance and the trembling hand's recall, 
The red lips, quivering with a sad surprise 
As the regretful sigh escaped — in all, 

P^ond Hope but heard and saw resistless doom. 
Folded her wings and crei)t into the tomb. 
1>0 



UNITED. 

^rp^YAS midnight, and I sat alone within 

*- A room whose solemn darkness was broken 
Only b}^ the golden gleams of light, shot 
From the winking stars. 

Around me all the 
World was hushed in slumber, while the l)reeze that 
Crept between the shutters gently fanned my 
l>row until the wheels of thought began to 
Move more lazily, and anon my soul 
Was wafted to the border land that skirts 
Tlie realm of deep unconciousness. And so. 
Half sleeping and half waking, there a])])eared 
To me the vision which I here record. 

I saw a l^eautious maiden stand beside 
.V man of stalwart form and nobk' mein ; 
And standing there, amid a circle of 
Fond friends, these two were joined together : not 

•21 



Witli eliaiiis that galled and fretted as the years 
IvoUed l)y, but with silken cords and golden 
Bands, that sat more lightly on them as theii- 
Mutual love drew them still closer to each 
Other. 

Then hand in liand I saw them start 
Tpon a journey down a winding way 
Thick' strewn with flowers,' while overhead the 
Sky was bright, as with the mellow light of 
Early morning. 

The friendly l)and bade 
Them (lod-speed upon their way, as thus the}^ 
Journeyed on, each loving and beloved ; and 
If sometimes their path was rough and l)r()ken 
For a little space, they stumbled not nor 
Fell, because their feet kept step unto tlie 
Music of their loving hearts. 

Sometimes the 
Sky was darkened by a cloud, but soon its 
I Jagged edges wore a golden fringe, and 
When it broke and scattered, the blue beyond 
Appeared more glorious because the cloud 
Had, for a moment, hid it from their view. 
22 



So, with joyful hearts and faces bright with 
Smiles, they traveled on together many 
Years, and when at last they reached the journey's 
End, the pearly gates of Paradise stood 
Open wide to welcome them to rest ; but. 
Pausing for a moment ere they entered 
In, one lingering glance they cast along 
The way which they had come, and seeing all. 
They nothing saw to cause them one regret. 



23 



MARRIED L <) VERS. 

COME darling to-night, and sit by my side, 
Just in the old sweet way ; 
As we often sat ere yon were a bride. 

Just in the old sweet way ; 
On the rustic seat, 'neath the arching vine, 
Where honeysuckle and roses twine, 
While your eyes divine look into mine, 
Just in the old sweet way. 

I'll whis])er low in your listening ear, 

Just in the old sweet way ; 
The endearing words you so loved to hear. 

Just in the old sweet way ; 
And as through the leaves the moonlight dri])^ 
While the drooping lids your eyes ecli])se, 
V\\ |)ress my lijis to your finger ti})S, 

Just in the old sweet wav. 



•24 



We'll smile at the scoffs of each envious tongue, 

Just in the old sweet way ; 
And grow calmly old as our souls grow young, 

Just in the old sweet way ; 
As together we climb life's rugged hill, 
The old romance shall our beings thrill. 
For, ever we will be true-lovers still, 

Just in the old sweet way. 



25 



GOD BLESS OFB HOME. 

GOD bless our home ! how oft to Heaven, 
From pleading li])s, that prayer is sent : 
While tliose who ask for heaven's smile 
Curse their own homes with discontent. 

(iod bless our home! the husband prayed ; 

Then, when his business day was done, 
He hied him streightway to the club, 

And there remained till nearly one. 

God bless our home ! from cushioned pew 
A fair young bride the words let fall ; 

The following night, ^\^th dashing swells. 
She flirted at the fancy ball. 

(rod bless our home! the young man said. 
But well his widowed mother knew 

That, while she sat alone that night. 
He practiced with his billiard cue. 



God bless our home ! with soft white hands 
A maiden wrought the motto fair, 

Then fumed and fretted all day long 
Because she'd no new hat to wear. 

Alas ! how oft, if Heaven should send 
Immediate answer to our prayer ; 

The blessing, when it sought our home. 
Would fail to find the suppliant there. 

' Tis well, perchance, to seek Heaven's aid 
But while you toil for fame or pelf, 

'Twere better in your leisure hours. 
To trv and bless the home vourself. 



27 



LENORE. 

OBEAUTIFITL EYES, as blue as the skies, 
And bright as the stars that sprinkle the night ; 
Each soft, melting glance sets my soul hi a trance, 
And touches each nerve with a thrill of delight. 

Light tresses of brown, as soft as the down 
Of the thistle, that floats on the midsummer air ; 
How I envy the breeze, that with impudent ease, 
Caresses, and kisses her beautiful hair. 

() beautiful lips, as sweet as the tips 
Of rosebuds just touched by the dew from above; 
What rapture awaits, at those bright coral gates, 
P\)r the mortal who captures their first kiss of love. 

O loveliness rare, of eyes, lips and hair. 
With graces of heart which the angels adore ; 
No blossom that grows, whether lily or rose. 
Can compare with the beautiful, darling Lenore. 

28 



A BHAI^SOIJY. 

T WAS sitting in the gloaming, 

^ With my truent fancy roaming 
Through the castles I had builded in the air ; 

I was feasting on the graces 

Of the rare and fairy faces 
Of the many dazzling beauties gathered there ; 

And I lavished fond caresses, 

On the soft and silken tresses 
Of both facinating blond and gay brunette, 

Mot a soul my right disputed. 

When my blissful kiss saluted 
The blushing cheek of each fair maiden as we met. 

But a footstep gently falling, 

And a sweet voice softly calling. 
Scattered all my dreamy fancies far and ^\dde ; 

I arose like one affrighted, 

When my glad eye was delighted 
By the vision of my sweetheart at my side ; 



29 



ITer bright eyes were like the nioriiiiig. 

And the smile her face adorniiig, 
Made her radient beauty seem almost divine ; 

And a thrill of joy went through me, 

As I bent, and gently to me. 
Drew my darling till her loving lips met mine. 

(), your lips may know the blisses, 

Of a thousand friendly kisses. 
On the cheek of lovely maidens dark and fair; 

And your hands may feel the blessing 

Of the oft and soft caressing. 
On silken curls of gold or raven hair ; 

But the one supreme emotion. 

Which stirs all the soul's devotion, 
And rivals e'en the joy of heaven above ; 

Is the sweet, ecstatic rapture. 

Which fills and thrills you at the capture 
Of the first kiss fi-oni the red warm lips of love. 



30 



AUTUMN GLORIEH. 

1L0VE the grand forest, 'tis nature's cathedral, 
And the spirit of worship dwells peacefully 
there ; 
The chorus of birds sing their anthem of praises. 
While each whispering zepher seems breathing 
a prayer; 
But I love best to wander amid its deep shadows, 
When the summer is gone and the year's grow- 
ing old, 
And the glorious arches above me are frescoed 
In colors of purple, and crimson and gold. 

But, while the bright hues of the sweetgum and 
maple. 

The oak and the beech, in their beauty combine, 
The eye loves to catch an occasional gliraps of 

The evergreen freshness of hemlock and pine ; 

31 



For the soul feels a thrill of still dee])er devotion. 

To see, when the bleak winds of autumn l)low 

cold, 

The emerald tints of the spring-time, still blended 

With autumn's rich purple, and crimson and 

gold, 

And so in our lives, if the spirit is nourished 
With the soft dews of love, and the sunshine of 
truth, 
When our powers are failing, our heart's best 
emotions 
Shall blossom and grow in perpetual youth ; 
So when the chill frost of old age falls upon us. 
And the warm cheering days <>f life's summer 
are told, 
In our souls, the bright verdure of childhood shall 
mingle 
With the glory of purple, and crimson and gold. 



82 



A CUllL OF (iOLlJEN HAIR, 

O ITTING by my study table, 
^ In the twilight cold and gray, 
Toying with an ancient volume 

That had long been laid away ; 
P\'om between the covers fluttered, 

Fell, and lay before me there, 
A Httle bunch of violets, fastened 

With a curl of golden hair. 

In a moment all my fancies 

Of the future backward roll, 
While memories of other days 

Come sweejjing in upon my soul. 
Days when I, a youth of twenty. 

Free from every thought of care. 
Fondly loved the blue-eyed maid, who 

Wore that curl of o-olden hair. 



83 



1 think of that bright summer eve 

When, sitting 'neath the arching vine, 
The little hand that ])lucked those flowers 

Lay so lovingly in mine, 
While we builded airy castles 

Which we might together share. 
When the bridal wreath should twine 

Among those curls of golden hair. 

And, when at last that night I left her. 

At her father's cottage door. 
Little dreaming I should see her 

Lovely form in life no more. 
Long I stood and gazed enraptured 

At the dimpled face so fair. 
Then stooping, kissed the soft white brow, 

Beneath its crown of golden hair. 



Ere long I stood beside a casket. 

In a silent, darkened room. 
And my poor, despairing soul was 

Wrapped in deepest midnight gloom, 

34 



For I looked upon ray darling, 
Ljdng cold and lifeless there, 

A wreath of snow-white lilies, mingled 
With her wealth of golden hair. 



T^ong weary years have passed since then, 

And I have roamed the wide world o'er 
Have stood upon the mountain peak. 

And on the ocean's stormy shore ; 
Vet, through all of Ufe's emotions. 

In hope and joy, or doubt and care. 
The link that binds my soul to Heaven, 

Is that bright curl of golden hair. 



85 



MY AXiiEL BRIDE. 

ALONE b}^ the firelight's titful gleam 
T sit in mj^ easy chair, 
And watch in the flames the by-gone scenes 

Which my fancy pictures there ; 
And as swiftly by on memory's wings 

The pictured fancies glide, 
I catch the trace of a beautiful face, 
The face of my angel bride. 

Our lives were joined by no jn'iestly words, 

No bridal wreath had she, 
h'or all to soon did the angel come 

And bear her away from me ; 
IJut 1 know while eternity's ages roll, 

She is mine, whatever betide. 
For our souls were wed, ere the sj)irit fled 

From the form of my angel l)ride. 

36 



My 8oul luis lu) tspace for a living love, 

For His iillea with the love of the dead 
A love that is purer than many a love 

Where the priestly words are said ; 
So, as still alone on the river of life, 

1 float with the drifting tide, 
ril i)lace each day, a fresh boquet 
On the grave of my angel bride. 



37 



WHEN I BIT DEO WEI). 

I'm only des' a 'ittle boy, 
Not more'n 'bout free years old ; 
An' sometimes when I'm naughty, zen 

My mamma she 'ill stold ; 
But I dess I'll do ze bestest sings 

Anybody ever knowed, 
F'or I'm doin' to be ze doodest man, 
When I dit drowed. 

My dreat bid sister's dot a beau, 

'At tomes here all ze time, 
An' when I do into ze room, 

ITe des' dives me a dime, 
An' says I 'ook so s'eepy 'at 

He dess it's time I doed, 
But I'm doin to tourt some dirl myse'f^ 

When I dit drowed. 



38 



My auntie's dot a l)al)y l>oy, 

No l)i<l<ler 'an a doll, 
He's dot ze funniest 'ittle eyes, 

An' mos' no nose a-tall. 
But his j)apa says ze baby is 

A tunnin' 'ittle toad, 
An' I'm doin to buy one des' like him, 

When 1 dit drowed. 

When I dit to be a dreat bid man, 

I won't be so mean, I dess, 
As to tall a 'ittle boy a dirl, 

Des' 'tause he wears a dress ; 
But I'll dit some waddins full of toys, 

An' dive everyone a load, 
'Tause I'm doin' to be a Santa Tlaus, 

When I dit drowed. 



39 



MOTHEKS BOY. 

TWO little feet that patter, jmtter 
On the noisy floor, 
Two little hands that scatter, scatter 

Toys the household o'er ; 
Two rosy lips that prattle, prattle 

With a childish joy, 
While the playthings rattle, rattle. 
That is mother's boy. 

Two half-shut eyes that twinkle, twinkle 

With a tender love. 
Like the stars that sprinkle, sj)rinkle 

Heaven's l)lue dome above ; 
Two weary eyelids closing, closing 

Softly down to rest, 
Mother's boy is dozing, dozing 

( )n his mother's breast. 



40 



Mother's boy is sleeping, sleeping 

On his downy bed, 
Angel eyes are keeping, keeping 

Watch above his head ; 
Mother's kneeling praying, ])raying, 

Faith without alloy, 
Ej^es uplifted, saying, saying, 

"Father, keep my boy !" 



Two scarlet cheeks are burning, burning 

With a fevered glow. 
Mother's boy is turning, turning, 

liestless, to and fro ; 
Mother's heart is crying, crying. 

With a j^athos wild — 
While her boy is dying, dying — 

"Father, save my child !" 



Mother's eyes are aching, aching, 

Tears refuse to flow. 
Mother's heart is breaking, breaking 

With a speechless woe ; 

41 



Mother's soul is weary, weary, 
Life's a broken thread ; 

All the world is dreary, dreary,, 
Mother's boy is dead. 



42 



3rV SOUL IS ALONE. 

MY soul is alone, though my fellows may stand 
Around me as closely as shells on the strand ; 
Though laughter may ring and the world glow 

with light, 
Mv soul is alone in a chaos of night. 

xMy soul is alone, though fond friendship may clasp 
My cold trembling hand in sweet sympathy's grasp. 
Though the eyes of compassion with tear-drops 

may glow. 
My soul is alone in its fathondess woe. 

My souUis alone, though the robins may sing. 
And the meadows be bright with the blossoms of 

spring ; 
Though the dews and the showers may gladden 

the land, 
Mv soul is alone in a desert of sand. 



4:i 



M}^ soul is alone, and my heart throbs in vain, 
For no heart- throb responds to its pitiless pain ; 
So, buried alive in an ocean of gloom, 
Mv soul is alone with its mei in the tomb. 



44 



A ;SO]SrRET FOB 10 LL 

ID ID not di-eam that I could miss you so ; 
But when I took your hand and said good-bye, 
With sniihng hps that gave my heart tlie lie, 
Then, masking all my sorrow, turned to go ; 
From my poor little world the mellow glow 

Of twilight fled, and from the darkening sky, 
The stars were one by one snatched ruthlessly. 
And flung into the sea of night below. 
And now, my evening star's one ray of hope^ — 
The sweet companionsliip where hearts unite. 
Of these, fond memories alone remain ; 
While in the dark my stumbling soul must grope. 
Striving in vain to find the cheering light. 
That will not shine until we meet again. 



45 



A SENTIMENT. 

A LOVELESS life — a starless night, 
■^^^ Without one cheering ray of light 

Its darkness to illume ; 
A barren tree, — a flowerless June, — 
A plaintive song without a tune, — 
A rose without perfume. 



46 



ECHOES OF MEEPJMENT. 



«/^- 



IN JUNE. 

I AM a maiden all forlorn, 
Left quite out in the cold, 
For matrimonial marketing 
Men deem me rather old, 
l^ut when the gossips ask my age, 

I always sing one tune, 
I smile my sweetest smile and say, 
Fm just sixteen in June. 

Some silver threads are growing 

In my raven locks, T know. 
And the lines upon my temples 

Fook like foot-prints of the croAV, 
And these would indicate that I 

Am getting toward life's noon, 
]>ut my young heart keeps repeating, 

I'm just sixteen in June. 

49 



Long years ago, I luid a l)eau, 

A noble, darling boy, - 
I)Ut then [ played the bashful maid, 

So very shy and coy; 
And when he ])roposed to me, I said, 

"Augustus Charles Hethune, 
You know I am too young to wed,- 

Pm just sixteen in June," 

So then Augustus went away, 

And never did come back ; 
And shortly afterwards, I heard 

He'd married Sally lilack ; 
l>nt if e'er another fellow i)o])s, 

I won't be sueh a loon. 
For ril nestle on his breast and say. 

We'll marrv, love, in June. 



50 



ONL Y. 

ONLY a (leorgy mule, 
Tvelieved of his wearisome load, 
With never a thought of harm, 
P^eding beside the road. 

Outy a little l)oy, 

Playiug a frolicsome trick, 
C'arefully coming behind, 

Tickles the mule with a stick. 

Only a shapeless mass, 

Flying aloft through the air, 

Where is the little boy V 

Echo res])ondeth, ^^where ?" 

( )nly a little grave. 

With nioiuMiers weeping around 
( )nly a funeral show, . 

For the bodv was never found. 



51 



V OETK \ \L col H TSJIIP. 

SOME years ago, in an Eastern town, 
There lived a girl named Susan Brown, 
A\'li<), throngli tlie country, up and down, 
Obtained consideral)le renown. 
Not for any special grace 
Of intellect, or form, or face ; 
Eor certainly it would be vain, 
To deny that she was extremely ])lain. 
Her form was lemarkably sliort and stout. 
Her complection was like a speckled trout, 
Her eyes were the color of well-skimmed milk. 
And her hair like a snarl of crimson silk. 
Tinged with the vivid tint that lies 
In the glowing autumn sunset skies ; 
In fact, so red, Fve heard it said, 
That often in the night, it shed 
Upon the darkness sucli a glow. 
The roosters all b-eo-an to ci-ow. 



For, stH'iii'j,- the li.ulit sliiiie out in tlie iiiii'bt, 
So exceedinoly red, and uneoinmonly bright, 
The birds (winch isn't at all surprising,) 
Supposed, of course, the sun was rising, 
And so they crowed with all their might. 

But Susan had one saving grace, 
Aside from mind, or form, or face ; 
For every one in the viUage knew 
Mer paternal i)arent was rich as a Jew ; 
In fact, ])os8essed of a million or two ; 
And so, each impecunious bach' 
Thought, for a matrimonial matcli, 
Susan would make a most elegant catch. 

Now, in the self-.-ame village, where 
Dwelt the heiress of this millionaire, 
l^here lived a youtli suri)assing fair, 
Witli c(^al-black eyes, and raven hair. 
Named, Charles Augustus James St. Clair 
His accom])lishments were many and rare. 
And he bore himself with a courtly air, 
Which a modern school-girl would <leclare, 



Was (jiiitc^ iiisfiiKfin., and nillitoirc 

And as far as anyone could see, 

Only a single fault had he, 

Which was impecuniosity ; 

For the truth must be told. 

That, in silver and gold, 

Like ^Ir. Lazzarus of old. 

He was as ])Oor as poor could })e ; 

T\)oi- as a ]>au|)er, without a cent; 

Poor as a chui'ch-niouse — dui'ing Lent ; 

Or even ])()orer still than that, 

i*ooi- as a c;)untry ))arsonage rat. 

Vet, despite his })overty, all the same, 
This youth with the eu))honious name. 
Declared his soul was all aflame 
With a passion which no power could tame, 
For the girl with the golden hair and fame ; 
And when the village gossips came 
And whispered slyly in liis ear 
That Susan Brown was rather queei-, 
Or, when some envious maiden said 
That Susan's temper, like her head, 
54 



Wiis a jK'rtVct snarl, and a fuM-y i-cd, 
He only smiled his blandest smile, 
(Childlike it seemed, though full of guile,) 
And snapped his fingers at their warning, 
And all their sage advices scorning, 
Declared that he would woo and win her, 
Although '•'•Old Nick"" himself were in her 

Alas ! my muse must here proclame, 
That, in the matrimonial game, 
'Tis often w^ealth, not worth, that wins, 
For gold we see, like charity. 
Van hide a multitude of sins. 

IJut to resume ; one Sabhah night, 
When moon and stars were shining bright, 
Our diaries Augustus James St. Clair 
Arrayed himself with special care. 
In a broadcloth suit, glossy and new, 
(For which he had paid with an I. O. V.) 
And sallied forth to meet the maid 
On whome his future h()))es wei'e staid. 
Determined, without more debate, 



'i'hat night lie woiiM (Iccidc his fate. 

And silently wandei-ing on his way, 
^\nd earet'uUy pondering wliat to say, 
He framed a speech brim full of lies, 
Such as Ave know all ladies prize. 
Of features fair, and glossy hair, 
And mental graces rich and rare, 
And ruhy lips, and sparkling eyes. 

.\nd heing a'sthetic, and somewhat poetic. 
And having a voice that was very magnetic. 
He arranged a chime of pleasing rhyme, 
Which he meant to recite at the ])ro])er time. 
In a style that should 1)e extremely pathetic. 

Precisely at the hour of eight 
He entered at the gar<h^n gate. 
And Susan met him at the <looi-, 
While a welcome smile her features wore, 
Which made the young man feel much more 
Encouraged than heVl been before. 



;)(j 



Together, side by side tliey sat. 
And eiiojige<l nwliile in friendly chat 
About the weather and things like that, 
Till our hero thought the time was pat 
For him to test the lady's heart 
With his deelamatory art. 

So, with what (•omj)osure he could command, 
He gently took the lady's hand, 
While his right arm sought her waist, hut 

he found 
That it wouldn't go more than half way round. 
So, changing his tactics, he softly pressed 
Her glowing head to his manly breast, 
And began, with a lofty rhetorical flight. 
His poetic tale of love to recite. 

But alas ! his fi-ail, rhyme-laden boat 
Refused on memory's sea to float ; 
For he got no further than : "Dear Miss Ih-owii/' 
When he foimd his speech turned uj)side <lown. 
While the words lay criss-cross in his bi-ain. 
Like trees just after a huri-icane ; 

57 



Alul lie orew peri)loxcMl, and exceeding]}^ vexed, 

Like a Parson who lias forgotten liis text, 

'Po know what tlie dickens he ought to say next. 

l)Ht well he knew it would never (h) 

'Vo stop his speech until he was through, 

So, trusting to luck, he blundered ahead, 

And these are ahout the words he said : 

''O, ra(hent, fair and heautious INIiss, 
Thine azui'e lips were Tna<h' to kiss! 
.Vnd a very worhl of meaning, lies 
In the golden depths of your gk)ssy eyes. 
While your ruby hair, so s])arkling bright. 
Shines on my path like a beacon light, — " 
J>ut there he stop])ed, as well he might, 
For in a rage the lady rose, 
And with one hand seized his clasic nose, 
AVhile the nails of the other plowed the skin 
Of his cheek, from the tem]»le to the chin ; 
And she yelled in his affrighted ear, 
In a voice most terrible to hear : 
'd'll teach vou, von base, ill-mannered bear. 



58 



To be making liglit of my aubui-ii liair!'" 

And then she gave his ears a box, 

And madly tore his raven h)c'ks, 

Till he rent the skies with his piercing ci-ies, 

Whik' teai's of an enormons size 

IvoIUmI down in torrents from bis eyes. 

Ibit at length, by an effort of wild despaii-, 
(And depiiving his head of a handfnl of liair,) 
He managed away from her grasp to tear. 
And without an adieu, away he Hew 
At a gallo])ing pace, which I tell }*ou 
Would rival Tam O'Shanter's mare. 

Now, the watch-dog saw the Hying man, 
As down the garden walk he ran, 
.Vnd, with a natural belief 
That he was an escaping thief, 
Pursued him to the garden wall. 
Where, never slacking his speed at all 
With one wild leap he left the ground. 
And cleared the wall at a single bound ; 
But alas ! as he went, he left beneath, 



59 



The tail of his coat in the watch-dog's teeth 
AikI iIk'D, aixl tlicrc, in tlial tcrrihh' tear. 
Ended forever the love affair 
Between the gallant young St. Clair, 
And the girl with the very auburn hair. 

Vonng men, whenever you go to pro])Ose, 
Pray be contented with sim])le prose ; 
For, if you attempt to appear sublime, 
By i^utting your sentiments into rhyme, 
A^ou'r sure to get muddled every time. 
And ten to one you'll loose your bride, 
And perhaps the tail of your coat beside. 



GO 



"/r MIGHT II A VE been:' 

IT might have been — ah ! so it miglit, 
But that is neither here nor there ; 
It is not, and tlierefore I write, 
T do iK^t care, 

A hair. 

It might liave been — so T awake 

To find my hopes a dream, and yet, 

I will not jump into the lake, 
And so get wet. 

You bet. 

Tt might have been — but as a rule. 
Experience only serves to show 

That one was but a stupid fool 
To wish it so, 

You know. 



61 



Tlien farewell tliat which might have been. 
For milk that's spilled I will not cry, 

But hail the sentence from your pen 
Without a sigh, 

l>ye-bye I 



(>2 



HARBY'S REPLY. 

(SU<T<4ESTEI) BY THE POEAF, "SlIADO^N'S.") 

AH ! 3^es, I remember, Margery, 
HoM^ we stood by the meadow bai-s, 
And watched as the young night sprinkled 

The sky with her glittering stars ; 
I remember the bright red clover, 

And the balmy air of Jnne, 
The crickets that chirped in the grasses. 
While the rays of the silvery moon 

Drew onr shadows on the meadow, 

Distorted, and lank and lean ; 
My shadow was kissing your shadow. 

And it made me feel jjowerful mean ; 
For, 'twas only the shadows were kissing. 

And although one shadow was mine, 
I soon found that the bliss of such bussing 

Was nothing but mere moonshine. 

63 



If I had onl^^ been older and bolder, 

When we nintnally vowed to l)e true, 
And instead of watching those shadows. 

Had bravely and sqnarely kissed you, 
I should not so soon have forgotten 

The gold of your Howhi^ curls, 
And married the cross-eyed widow, 

With her dozen of gi-own-uj) girls. 

I hit the widow was older than we were. 

And, by her ex])erience, knew 
That the kissing of niooidight shadows, 

For lovers, would never do ; 
So we sat side by side on the sofa. 

In the glare of a chandelier, 
And the smack we gave at our trothing, 

'Twoul<l have <loneyour soul good to hear 

^'ou too have grown older and wiser. 

And I'll wager a silver spoon, 
That the man you have lately been kissing, 

Ts not the man in the moon ; 



()4 



And the voice that is dearer than 1 lai-ryV 
Is the voice of one, I suppose, 

W'lio lias recently planted his mustache 
On those li})s that rival the rose. 

I>ut, since you are contented and happy 

And have no cause to repine 
At the lot which P^ate has decreed you, 

I'll try and not grumble at mine ; 
For this we both seem to agree in, 

That it's better for you and for me, 
That I married the cross-eyed widow. 

Instead of Margery Lee. 



65 



LUTE AND L YRE. 

BENEATH the window of ray love 
I stood, bathed in the moonhglit's gkiw, 
And softly on my lute, I played 

A serenade in treittolo. 
With hesitating voice I sang, 

"Fair Maid, I love you as my life ! 
And sad will be my destiny 
If you refuse to be my wife." 

Xext night another wooer came, 

With instrument of strange design, 
iVnd from its strings, with skillful touch, 

Drew strains that seemed almost divine ; 
"Light of my soul," he boldly sang, 

"1 love you more than life or Heaven, 
And surely I shall pine and die. 

If from its light my soul is riven." 

66 



The bold musician won the maid, 

While I in loneliness remain ; 
And often, of the cruel Fates, 

I've asked the reason why, in vain ; 
But now alas ! I know full well 

The cause of my desaster dire, 
I serenaded with a lute. 

My crafty rival, with a lyre. 



67 



MOITNTAW ECHOES. 



m DIALECT. 



THE MOOXSlIIXEirs GREETING. 

HKITJ)! stiaiio-er, wlio l>o you? 
('ftifer cf the revenue 'r 
IJeckoii not, but if you be, 
Here's a hint Til give you free — 
Turu alxnit your bosses' tail. 
Take the back track down the trail. 
Pike for licine a-foie your wife 
Gits tliMushureuee on your life. 

We-uus here luust live, you know. 
Them chaps don't oive us no show^; 
So we reckon that it's right 
To meet them revenues with fight, 
An\ stranger, fightin' hain't no fun 
When we git keerless with a gun. 

But if you've come here to see 
What city cliaps call scenery, 

71 



Take the trail to yander peak, 
Thar you'll find the thing you seek ; 
A'ou can git from that one si)ot, 
Finest views that Georgy's got ; 
North or South, or East or West, 
Can't tell which one is the best ; 
IJidge on ridge the mountains rise, 
Blue tops kissin' of the skies, 
And the vallies in between, 
Shinin' with the brightest green. 

You'll be hongry gittin' back. 
Then we'll have a little snack ; 
Hain't got no great shakes up here, 
l>ut you're welcome to a sheer ; 
Pone of corn bread, smokin' hot. 
Coffee from the ole tin j)ot, 
Bacon, jest a slice or two. 
Then a drap of mountain dew, 
^Mountain dew which, T tell Yor, 
Hain't paid nary revenue. 
If you'd like to spend the night, 



We kill fix you u]) all ri<>-lit ; 

Hain't got but one room you see, 

Ole ooman, Sal, an' Jake an' nie, 

I^ut as long as thar's a floor 

We'll make a place for jest one more. 

I)Ut if you're nosin' roun' this hill 

To smell out someone's moonshine still, 

I won't orate any more, 

But say that same I said before ; 

Turn about your bosses' tail. 

Take the back track down the trail, 

( )r ole Jake won't garantee 

What may happen, don't you see ? 



73 



1 



THE CITY (ILUIR 1)1 KT. 

W^ be'ii down to the city, wife, aiT staid a week 
oi- more, 

All' thai* 1 seed a heep o' tilings I never seen a-fore, 
But I want iiios' perticabir, to tell you 'bout a toon 
I heerd a city choir sing, on SuiKbiy a'tenioon. 

Vou know when we war boys an' gals, they had 

preacliin' Sunday night' 
In the little ole log meetiir-house, at airly caii'le- 

light ; 
An' when it come to singiiT hymns, accordiii' to 

my tas'e, 
^'oll war the captain as a trible, an' me tol'able on 

bass. 

So I jest as't a chap I met as 1 war strollin' roun', 
Whar they had the pnrtiest music of any meetiii'- 
house ill town? 



An' he p'inted to a biiildin' with a steeple, I declar', 
Mos' as hio'li, an' twice as peaked as ole Shai-p 
Top over there. 

A feller took me to a seat, way back agin' the wall, 
I \spose so I coidd see the nios' 'thout turnin"' 

roiin' at all, 
An' I thought how mighty clever them 'are c*ity 

chaps mus' be. 
To study the convenience of a mount'ineer like me. 

Well, I wasn't long to take the hint, but jest sot 
thar an' gazed 

At the queer an' ])urty tixin's, till I grew so sort 
o' dazed, 

That I r'ally eenamost begun to wonder if I had 

Somehow walked right into Heaven, 'tliout know- 
in' I Avar dead. 

The big, high winders that tliey had, to let the 

daylight through. 
War made of queer-shaped little glasses, colored 

yaller, red aiT blue ; 

75 



All' tlie ceiliir war all tVigerceed, or whatever 'tis 

they call 
That 'ar sort of tigger ])aintiir that they put onto 

the wall. 

The choir sot up in a loft where everyone could see, 
An' the orgin uj) hehhid 'eni war the queerest thing 

to me 
For I vow that it war l)out as big as this 'ere 

cabin here. 
An' the cliaj) that })layed onto't, — I think they 

called the orgin eei'. 

When the folks had ariv' an sot down, the orgineer 
Played a perliniinary toon, they called a volunteer, 
Then he give a little signal for the choir to begin, 
When they all riz in their })laces, an' together 
started in. 

For a while it seemed to nie that they war singing 

of a race, 
First the alter with the trible, then the tenor with 

the bass ; 



MJ 



Then the alter bass an' trible, started a three-coi-- 

nei'ed song, 
Till binieby the tenor humped liisself, an' holp the 

thing along. 

Then they all stopped but tne tril)le, an' she begun 

to sail, 
\Vith her demer-senier-quaverin', ;dl up an' down 

the scale, 
Till the twistin's an' giratin's of her vocal acrobets, 
'Minded me of circus fellers, turnin' double sum- 

jnersets. 

Then the singin' stoi)ped a minute, while the or- 

ghieer, he ])layed 
A toon so melancholy like, I sw'ar, it fairly made, 
In s])ite of all that I could do, two little streams 

(^f brine. 
Come gushin' from the cornei-s of these tough ole 

eyes o' mine. 

Then the tenor an' the trible started in on a 
duet. 



77 



An' talk of soothiii' music, that war yoothiir yon 

kin bet ; 
P'or it war as soft an' tender as the gentle nionn- 

t'in breeze, 
That of a summer evenin' goes a soughin' through 

the trees. 

An' the longer they kept singin', the more sooth- 

in'er it got. 
Till they come to taper off the eend, an' then you 

see, I sot 
An' shet my eyes an' listened, till I r'ally thought 

Marier, 
The very angels had come down an' j'ined that 

city choir. 

Now, I don't go much on golden streets, for't 

kinder seems to me, 
That sich pavin' stuns an' these ole feet won't 

nios'ly jest agree ; 
An' as for playin' hymns an' psalms on golden 

harps, good laws ! 



78 



My lijiiids 'u(I he Ms clumsy as a ])air o' lobster's 
claws. 

But when the time has come at last, for me to take 
the trail 

To the yan side of the mount'iu, from this subler- 
nary vale ! 

An' I walk uj) sort o' trembliu', an' present myself 
before 

The angel that's ai)])'inted to tote the keys to heav- 
en's door, 

If he should grant to let me in to evei-lastin' bliss, 
.\n' offer me my ruther thar, I'll onl}^ ask for this — 
Through all th' indurin' ages of eternity, to set 
An' listen wdiile the angles sing that city choir duet. 



79 



n AY, F 



THE OPERA EXrORE. 

AY, FELI^EillvS, I war down to town about a 
^eek ago, 
An' a city chap I knowed as't me to go an' see the 

show ; 
Twar a sort o' singm' circus that they called an 

operar, 
An' a gal named Miss Ma-dam-a-selle war ])layin' 
as the star. 

When we went up to the show-house, about eight 

o'clock at night, 
All the inside of the buildin' war in sich a l)laze 

o' light, 
An' so crowded full o' people that it nearly turned 

my mind, 
An' I had to shet my eyes awhile to keep from 

goin' blind. 



80 



The woMieii folks war dressed up iniolity tine, ex- 

ceptin' jest a few, 
That sot up ill sort o' eages, riglit hi everybody's 

view ; 
T reckon they war Veniises, or some sieh folks as 

those, 
They war so white an' stattoo like, an' pow'rful 

scant o' clothes. 

The inusieianers, they i)layed awhile, an' then the 

curt' ill riz. 
All' the sioht 1 saw upon the stage jest set my 

l)rain a- whiz ; 
.V lot o' fellers toggled out in fancy-colored frocks. 
While the dresses of the gals, it 'peared to me war 

mostly socks. 

This war what they called the chorus, an' they 

(hiiiced an' sung a spell. 
An then went, marchhi' off the stage, an' Miss 

Ma-dam-a-selle, 
With her lover cha]) came in an' sung a sort o' 

seesaw song, 

SI 



First the one an' tlien the other, jest a-hmpin' 'er 
ahjng. 

'ilien they had a sort o' hiiggin' match, an' a kind 
o' kissin' spree, 

Till another cliaj) came rnshin"" in, as mad as he 
could be, 

An' drew his sword, an' made a lunge to git that 
lover's gore. 

When the gal she fainted i)luml) away, an' tum- 
bled on the floor. 

Hight at this p'int tlie cui-t'in fell, an' the ))eo])le 

clapped an' cheered. 
An' raised the durnedest i-acket that my cars had 

ever heerd, 
Till I as't my pardncr what tliey meant by sich a 

blamed uproar, 
^A¥hvi" ho said, ^^the playin' war so tine they 

wanted an encore." 

So bimeby the curt'in riz ag'in, an' Miss Ma-dam- 
a-selle, 

82 



Came a-bowin' an' a-smiliir, while tlie iiiusie 

])layed a s])ell. 
Then she suuo- a s()iio<)f ^^llome, Sweet Home,'" 

so tenderly an' low, 
''lliat I thought one of the heavenly choir war 

ti'avlin"' with that show. 

\ow I reckon, fellei's, you may think that Tm 

a-tellin' hes, 
l>ut ril sw'ar that music hrought the teai's a- 

steamin' from my eyes. 
For lu']- voice jest seemed to i-each my heart, and 

wind itself around. 
So tremblin\ soft an' silky, like a spidei- web of 

sound. 

An' whlie I sot thai" an' listened, like someone in 

a dream, 
I seemed to heai- the ripplin' water, in yander 

mount'in stream, 
The i-ustle of the autumn leaves, the murmer of 

the bi-eeze. 



83 



An' the warbliii' of the robms in the hiiiachets of 
the trees. 

'I'hen a picter riz before nie, of this log cabin here, 
Whar Fve Uved on corn an' bacon for nigh onto 

sixty year. 
But while I wai- a-lisiiin' to that Httk' sliow-gal 

sing, 
I wouldn't traded this ole cabin for tlie ])alace of 

a king. 

lUit when at last the singin' ended, I puHed my 

pardner's sleeve, 
Au tohl Ihni that i i-eckoned it wai' time foi* nie 

to leave, 
For my soul war runnuT over with the music of 

that song. 
An' I wanted to git out o' doors aiT cai'ry it along. 

An' ever sence that evenin', when the sun is 

sinkin' low. 
While the sunnnit of ole Sharp Toj) thai-, shines 

with its dyin' glow, 

84 



r l)ow my head an' listen, till I almost seem to 

hear 
The music of that same s.veet song- a-ringin' in 

my ear. 

An' I'll tell you fellers, when my time to leave 

this world has come. 
If I should git a ticket to the new Jerusalum, 
All I'll ask, is jest for standin' room, way back 

agin' the door. 
To hear that show-gal's angel sing, "Sweet Home" 

forevermore. 



85 



s 



HOW THE FIDDLE SUXG. 

AY, boys, you know that city chap that's be'n 

a-totin' me around, 
To see all sorts of sights an' hear most every kind 

of sound V 
Well, when I war m town last week he tuck me 

out ag'in, 
To hear a high-toned tiddler chap play on the 

violin, — 
l.eastwise, I think they called it some sich high- 

ferlutin name, 
But good Lord, 'twar nothin' but an ole red fiddle 

all the same, — 
Howsomever, if you chaps had heerd that fiddle 

sing, you'ld swore 
You never heerd no instrumunt could sing like 

that, before. 



S6 



The fiddler came onto the stagje Avith a knowin' 

kind o' smile, 
An' stood a-strokin' an' a-pattn' that ole tiddle tor 

awhile. 
Like it war a livin'' critter, that could feel an' un- 
derstand, 
A silent language he war talkin' by the techin' of 

his hand. 
Then he put it to his shoulder, an' then he laid 

his chin, 
In a sort of a caressin' way, down on that violin, 
P^or all the world jest like a child 'ud lay its head 

to rest. 
On the soft an' soothin' piller of a lovin' mother's 

breast ; 
Then he shet his eyes a minute, in a dozy kind 

o' way, 
Like 'twar night, an' he war jest a-goin' to fiddle 

in the day, 
While I foUered suit, an' shet mine too, for music 

alius 'pears 
To give me a queerish sort o' sense of seein' with 

my ears. 

«7 



Then the fiddler went to tiddlin', kind o lazy like 

an' slow, 
An' the strings begun to whisper with a music 

sw^eet an' low, 
As if they couldn't help from singin', but sung 

quiet like, to keep 
From w^akin' up the dreamin' world too sudden' 

from its sleep. 
'Jlien purty soon I seemed to see a sort o' misty 

light, 
Creepin' slowly u]» the eastern sky, an' pushin' 

back the night ; 
The birds begun to twitter in a hesitatin' style, 
p]xperimentin' like to see if it was wuth their while. 
But when bimeby the summits of the ole Blue 

Ridge, begun 
To show" the ravelin's of light around the edges 

of the sun, 
Why, the whole indurin' chorus jest turned in 

with a vim, 
An' sot the world rejoicin' with their airly mornin' 

hymn, 



88 



Wliilo tlio fiddler drew tlie music from tliem lld- 

dle-strings so tine, 
That doggone me if I didn't think I heerd the 

sunbeams shine. 

Then I seed two lovers conrtiiT in the shadder of 

a tree, 
An' they war jest about as spoony as lovers ever 

git to be ; 
I seed Vm whisperiiT secret like, 'l)()ut t'other, 

that an' this, 
An their heads kept (b-awiiT cluser, till bimeby I 

heerd a kiss, — 
Not one ()' them as p()j)s out with a sudden plunk 

an' thud, 
I. ike a nuile a-j>ullin' of his foot from ole Xo'th- 

(ileorgy mud, 
But a lingerin'-sweetness-hmg-drawn-outish kind 

o' kiss, you know. 
Like the feller'd tuck a powerful holt, an" couhhrt 

let 'er go ; 
It sounded like a whip-lash, jest before you hear 

'er crack, 

SI) 



But it lasted rutlier longer, an' ended with a smack 
That made my ole lip > tingle with the very sort 

o' fire, 
That ust to tickle 'em sometimes, when I war 

courtin' of Marier. 

Then the tiddler give the tnne a turn, an' I seed 

a black cloud rise. 
Like a widder's vail unroUin' o'er the bright face 

of the skies, 
The wind turned in to howlin' like a risin' har- 

ricane, 
The birds left oft' their singin', an' it begun to rain. 
The lovers took to kivver, for lovers, you kin bet. 
Are a-most like other critters, 'bout gittin' hungry, 

cold or wet ; 
I seed the lightnin' blazin', an' I heerd the thunder 

crash, 
An' for awhile it seemed as if the world 'ud go to 

smash, — 
But jest thar the music changed ag'in, the black 

cloud rolled away. 



9U 



An' left the sky jest curtained with a dismal sort 

o' gray ; 
The wind came sighin' through the trees with sich 

a lonesome sound, 
That I felt as if there warn't another livin' soul 

around. 
Then a church bell went to tollin' for a spirit that 

had Hed, 
An' somehow, you see, I scorned to know a little 

child war dead ; 
I seed an o])en grave, an' a baby's cofhn settin' 

thar, 
1 heerd a mother cryin' while the Parson said his 

pray'r. 
Then the sexton war a-lowerin' the cofiin in the 

ground, 
An' I heerd the dirt fall on it with a dull, heart- 

sicknin' sound ; 
An' that fiddle war a-singin' sich an agonizin' 

strain, 
That it seemed as if the universe war moanin' 

with its i)ain ; 



91 



All creation turned to w'eQ\>'u\' an" i could a-swore^ 

you know, 
'lliat I seed the tears a-drappin' from that (piiv- 

erin' tiddle bow. 
While tlie crowd that sot thar listenin\ jest oas))ed 

an' held theii- l»i-eath. 
Till the nnisic in that fiddle, sohhed an' sobbed 

itself to death. 
An' tlie woi-ld went into niournin\ as its spirit viz 

on hicrh. 
To o-o foi-evt'r an' forevei-, serenadin' throuoh the 

skv. 



An' I'll bet my bottom dollar, if that choir ai-ound 
the throne. 

Should ever ketch the echo of that wanderin' 
s})irit's tone. 

They'll hush their song awhile, an' give their 
golden harps a rest, 

While from every chamber windei' in the man- 
sions of the blest, 

A bouqut of angel heads '11 be a-stretchin' out to 
hear 

<)2 



'Vhv music of tliat serenade i-iuo- lliioimli tlie lieav- 
eiily sp'ere. 

An' it* them cherubs ever learii wliat instruuiuut 
on earth, 

Sung tlie airly morniir antlieni at tliat serenader's 
birth, 

I reckon tliat for once they'll do a )>o\verful hu- 
man thing. 

For tliey'll envy every cuss that's lieei-d that ole 
red hddle sino-. 



m 



AN ECHO FROM THE OLD FARM. 











-. '^-<^ ? 

^ - M ' 




WHEN THE HONEYMOON IS O VEE. 



w 



/^ELL, John, 3^011've be'ii a-telliii' me you're 

troiii' to leave \is soon, 
To take a little M'eddin' tri]>, and s])en(l the 

honeymoon ; 
So I guess you're happy as a lark that sings the 

wliole day through, 
.And I reckon you've got no idee of ever feelin 

blue ; 
lUit, my boy, I went that road myself, nigh forty 

year ago, 
And 1 got acquainted with some things that mebbe 

you don't know ; 
So jest lennne give yon some few p'ints, al)()ut the 

outs and ins. 
When the honeymoon is over, and tlie lumidrum 

life begins. 



97 



Tht^m poets say, that lovers most alius sonietmies 

thinks they hears 
Then- own little world revolvin' to the music of 

the spheres, 
All nater's full o' melody, from the whistle of the 

breeze, 
To the warbHn' of the little birds, and hummin' 

of the bees ; 
But when their ways begin to clash, and things 

don't kind o' June, 
That same world some how or other gits to ])layin' 

out o' tune. 
And their ears become familiar with the (liscords 

and the dins. 
When the honeymoon is over, and the humdi-um 

life be2:ins. 



^'our Avife won't be an angel, John, and if she was, 

I fear 
You'ld make the most ongainliest match, to work 

in <h:)uble gear ; 



98 



So, when you're ti-avliir side by side, if she 
slioiddii't ketch your pace, 

Don't you begin to rear and balk, nor kick and 
bust a trace ; 

I Jut thiouoh all the journey's ups and downs, jest 
make allowance due, 

For the various nnj)ert'ections human nater's sub- 
ject to. 

And you'll tind that sort of management most 
generally wins, 

When the honeymoon is over, and the humdrum 
life be2:ins. 



The matrimonial turn])ike, John, has got some 

hills to climb. 
And colts in doul>le hariM^ss won't ])ull together 

every time ; 
And your double-seated keerrige, though l)ran- 

spang new and sUck, 
Won't most alius jog along the road without a 

hitch or click ; 



•^9 



You may try and keep tlw axles 'iled, and tJie 
geariir all screwed tiglit, 

And you'll ruther guess the vehicle '11 make the 
trip all right ; 

But you're bound to hear the clatterin' of loos- 
ened bolts and pins, 

When the honeymoon is over, and the humdrum 
life begins. 

The fallow liehl o' life, my l)oy's, chock full o' 

stuns and stumps. 
And every laborer's got to take his share of 

thumj)S and l)unipM ; 
For the critters will git frjictious like, and you 

can calculate. 
You'll frequent' find it powerful hard to ph)ugh 

your furrer streight ; 
Then, when the hayin' time comes on, you'll be 

mighty apt to fret. 
And complain of Providence because the clover's 

gittin' wet; 



100 



But that's jest- the tmie to tight aghi' your most 

besettm' sins, 
When the honeymoon is over, and tlie liunidi-iina 

life begins. 



So, my son, wlien you've been aU day long, a- 

workin' out o' doors, 
Till you have to use the lantern -light to do your 

even in' chores, 
Then you come in tired and hungry, and set down 

to wait for tea. 
With your coat Hung on a cheer post and one 

foot up oil your knee ; 
Don't look sour because your little wife ain't quite 

as spruce and neat 
As when you sot and courted lier on that, ole rus- 
tic seat ; 
But remember, she must wrassle with the kittles 

and the tins, 
When the honeymoon te OAxr, and the humdrum 

life begins. 



101 



I suppose you kiu reuieuiber, how you used to 

" spend your cash, 
Jest to git your sweetheart keromils and every 

sieh-like trash ; 
Then you never reckoned the expense, and if she'd 

only smile, 
And jest put her little hand in your'n and leave it 

there awhile ; 
You grew so soft and nieller like, you vowed your 

very life 
Would be a stingy price to pay for sicli a darlin' 

wife ; 
So don't grumble now, at what she si)ends for nee- 
dles, thread and phis. 
When the honeymoon is over, and the hunuh-um 

life betrins. 



But, my boy, you alius make a little sweetheart of 

your wife, 
And be her tender lover through all the changin' 

scenes of life ; 



102 



Try mikI lielj) her bear her biirdeiis, and you'll Hiid 
your'ii lighter too, 

And her smile when storm-elouds gather'U l)e like 
sunshine peekin' through ; 

And all along the toilsome journey, clean to the 
very end 

Make her your partner and companion, and confi- 
dential friend ; 

Then youll find that little wife o' yourn is heav- 
en's richest boon. 

For she'll make the humdrum of your life, a life- 
lono- honeymoon. 







lO:^ 



xxo 



\ 






<a 



vV 



v^ 


















r^o^ .^ 






iP'T. 



r. '^<». c^"^ .t^V/k^ ^^ A^ 















-o/ : 




































4> ••••♦.'<^ 







"o V .' 



•i'-O' 



& 



^'ii 



> \*^^V V^^*/ \*^^V 






^^' 









^. *.To« aO 



v- 

► i"!.*^- 



^j, • # 1 









■P^ .•: 



.* ^o 













4V •!• ' • • « Av 
















^^ 'o,T« A 



♦ 'o 






r ••••«.'<> 




/»C:^^% 



ol -o • » • A 










.^* 



.0 ^^^^ •. 



• '^^..^^ 



^« ^ "a oV^SjO^* ijy ^ • 















^1* :. 






.0 ^^^ •. 



%^< 















